Paraguay Didn't Solve Anything
by Nan
Summary: A shipper story set in the current season.
1. Part 1

Title: Paraguay didn't solve anything  
  
Author: Nan  
  
Rating: PG-13   
  
Classification: Mac/Harm  
  
Spoilers: Anything up to Close Quarters in Season 9  
  
Summary: (sigh) In Close Quarters, JAG seemed so, so, well normal. Harm and the admiral were getting along. Mac and Harm joked and helped each other with no underlying tension or misunderstanding. Sure, Harm is now parked in a cramped office with a dead animal hidden in the wall but that is just a minor detail.   
  
Sooooo, I guess this story takes off from there. I realize that this will never happen. TPTB will never put Harm and Mac together. Never. So I just couldn't resist doing it myself. So sue me. But I warn you; it starts with Mac and Webb...  
  
******************************************************************  
  
1620 Zulu  
  
JAG Headquarters  
  
Falls Church, Virginia  
  
Sarah Mackenzie sighed as she put down the phone. Clay had called to see if she could attend a private reception at Mount Vernon tonight. Fundraiser for a literacy cause his mother championed. She said yes because that is what girlfriend and boyfriend do, right? They do things together. And she had a made a pact with herself to get closer to Clay. And once she had made up her mind to do something, she did it.   
  
She looked at the small stack of manila envelopes at the corner of her desk. Those were the Singer/Imes cases, newly transferred from Harm's desk to hers. She toyed with the idea of calling Clay back.   
  
The admiral giving Harm those Singer files seemed a little on the cruel side, she admitted to herself. It wasn't so long ago that Harm had been accused of murdering that very same person. She wasn't quite sure which of Harm's buttons the admiral was trying to push with that gesture. But while she was admitting things, she had to confess that somehow the admiral's tactics worked. She had stood in his ornate office, listening with amazement and relief while Harm and the admiral sorted out the terms of their new relationship. And with that, the tension of the office dissipated.  
  
Those Singer files were going to have to wait one more day. She deserved a night off and she had an obligation to Clay. It wasn't often they had a chance to get together.  
  
She winced to herself as she sorted the papers on her desk. Why was Clay taking her to yet another tedious charity event of his mother's? She knew the evening would grate on her nerves like nails on chalkboard. Clay's mother was always gracious but...  
  
Whatever. She glanced up from her desk into the bullpen. Harm was towering over Bud, Coates and Harriet, pointing at a file open on the copier. She could see Coates and Harriet smiling up at him and Bud laughing. Harm's eyes crinkled and the corners of his mouth tugged upward.   
  
She smiled at the scene then shook her head. Why was she grinning like that? She grinned every time she saw Harm talking to someone, attending a staff meeting, sitting in her chair, or filling the doorway of her office. Since returning to JAG, Harm seemed to be firmly resolved to let bygones be bygones. And she relished in his easygoing attitude. It was such a relief to have a normal conversation with the man.   
  
A little thought crept into the back of her mind. If she wasn't going out with Clay, she could work late. Harm would be working late too. They could order in pizza, half and half, and go over Singer's cases together. She sighed again.  
  
***************************  
  
"Sarah!" Clay called. "Over here." She wove her way across the crowded reception room toward Clay and his mother. He stepped slightly away from the group and held out his arm to wrap around her waist. "Beautiful as usual." He leaned in and kissed her cheek.  
  
"How's work?" he asked.  
  
"Busy," she said. "I considered declining your invitation just to make a dent on the mountain of paperwork."  
  
"I'm glad you didn't." He squeezed her waist with his arm. "I thought with Rabb back, the pressure would be off."  
  
She looked at him. "You knew he was back?" She hadn't told him yet and wondered who had.  
  
He smirked in that superior way of his. "I know everything. Remember? Besides, sooner or later, we all knew the admiral would take him back."  
  
"Not me. And nor you, if you had seen how the admiral was over the last few months," she said.   
  
"Harm will survive. He always does."  
  
"He thinks you fired him," she stated. "Did you?"  
  
"Why would I do that?"  
  
She pegged him with a look. "Did you?" she repeated.  
  
"Despite everything that has gone on, I still consider Harm one of my closest friends. And he is one of the best pilots to step into the CIA. And I'd give you proof of that if it didn't violate national security. Why would I want to see him fired?"  
  
"Come on, Clay.."  
  
"And send him back to JAG? Where he would see you everyday?"  
  
"Clay," she repeated. "Why did you fire Harm?"  
  
"Blaisdell was using him for every crazy mission there was. Some truly dangerous situations. It crossed my mind that Rabb might be a little less cautious than normal because of recent events. I didn't want to look at those nameless stars at Langley and see Harmon Rabb," said Webb.  
  
Mac felt a shiver go up her spine. Clay just put words to that ill-defined panic she had felt the day in the hospital when she had learned Harm was flying for the company. She looked at Clay. She felt grateful for his intervention. Harm was back at JAG where he belonged. Maybe they could start to put Paraguay behind them.  
  
"He's still angry about Paraguay," she said.  
  
"Yeah, well and someday I plan to thank him. But it's hard to get past that truck load of resentment he currently carries around."   
  
"You're not the only one he is mad at," she said.  
  
He looked at her. "He's still not talking to you?"  
  
Mac averted her eyes. "Yeah, he's talking. But that's only because the admiral would toss him out if he didn't. Now, he's so polite, it's like he's walking on glass."  
  
"You made a choice. A choice he's not too happy with at the present. I can't blame him for that." Clay leaned forward in affectionate affirmation and nuzzled her neck. "Speaking of choices, have I told you how appreciative I am that you are in my life?" he said, his voice low.  
  
Mac smiled and closed her eyes as she felt Clay's lips lightly kiss her nape. "Clay..." she murmured.  
  
Clay straightened up to look into her eyes again. "You've made your choice. He has to let it go."  
  
"I'm not sure what he has to let go of. It's not like we ever had anything," she said glumly. "Like a wise man once said, Harm is oblivious."  
  
"Yeah, well, I've revised that opinion since Paraguay. Pubertal is a better word."  
  
"Clay," she said. "If he was that, how did he manage to save both our lives in Paraguay?"  
  
"Okay, so pubertal is a bit harsh. But Harm can't do what he did in Paraguay too often. There are many of our allies who are quick to misrepresent American actions on foreign soil, even if those actions did manage to destroy a semi full of stinger missiles."  
  
Mac bristled. "Lay off Harm, Clay. He doesn't deserve your criticism. He resigned his commission to find both of us. He could have been killed too. You think that Hardy would have lifted a finger?"  
  
"No, Sarah, Hardy wouldn't. And that's because it was supposed to be a covert operation. Period. Chegwidden was right when he ordered Rabb not to come. Why is this so hard to understand? You marines order men into combat situations all of the time, knowing full well that some people will die. This was no different. We were just two patriots about to die for a cause."  
  
Mac felt a hot flush creep up her neck. "I wouldn't be standing here at this gala affair tonight, if it wasn't for Harm. Are you telling me I shouldn't feel something?"  
  
"He isn't the only one who made sacrifices, Sarah. The reason I was in Paraguay and not here in Washington was because of Rabb. Remember the Angel Shark investigation?"  
  
On cue, Mac looked at Clay's left arm. His usual practice these days was to keep his hand tucked in a pocket to hide the tremors. Tonight was no different. She knew what Clay said was true. He had made sacrifices too, especially for her.  
  
Webb watched the emotions play across her face. He turned away slightly and said, "Look Sarah, talking about Rabb is depressing. He'll get over this. He always does. I want to have fun this evening. Come on. Let's join Mother."  
  
Mac mentally shook away the thoughts of Harm. Talk of Harm always ended with Clay's impatience at the topic. Clay was right. He would get over it. She had to let it go. Mac followed him obediently into the throng of people. 


	2. Part 2

Title: Paraguay didn't solve anything - Part 2  
  
***************************************  
  
Sarah Mackenzie's Apartment  
  
0100 Zulu  
  
Mac heard a click on the line and a sleepy voice mumbled on the other end. "This better be important, drongo. You don't want to see me spit the dummy."  
  
"Mic!" she said. "It's Sarah."  
  
There was a noticeable pause. Long enough for Mac to wonder if she had made a mistake. It was a spur of the moment decision to call her former fiancé. She was curled up on the couch of her apartment, in front of the fire with a mug of tea and the portable phone. Somehow, she had been thinking of Mic lately. It was this that compelled her to make the call.   
  
Finally, a considerably more alert voice said, "Sarah?"  
  
"Yes," she said. "Hi Mic, It's been a while. How are you?"  
  
  
  
"Pinching myself to see if this is just another dream," he joked.  
  
"Mic," she said in a warning voice. "I happen to know I'm not your dream anymore. Bud told me the good news. You're engaged!"  
  
"Yeah, finally found someone to have me. She's a lawyer like you. Not military, though. A real spunk."   
  
Mac smiled at that. "Finally found someone to have you? That's not how I remember it. If I recall, I was still willing to go through with our wedding. You left me remember, not the other way around."  
  
"Should I have stayed and married you?" he asked.  
  
"No," she admitted. "It took me a long time to acknowledge that but you were right. The situation was a mistake. You deserved better. Someone who would do better by you. You're a good man, Mic."  
  
There was a pause. "Am I talking to Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie? From Falls Church? There seems to be a problem with this line."  
  
"Mic?" she said.  
  
"The Sarah I knew was a stunner who never put herself down. A simple swaggie from Oz was no match for her."  
  
"Mic, you weren't just a swaggie from Oz. You were a kind, thoughtful gentleman who made me very happy for a period of time. I was the one who mucked it all up," she said.  
  
He was slow to reply. "We both wanted different things, Sarah."  
  
"Well, there's actually a reason why I called. I need your advice."  
  
  
  
"Shoot," he said.  
  
"I'm contemplating entering a serious relationship. And I want to do it right this time."  
  
"You want to give it a fair go. You need for me to give the lucky bloke a few pointers, is that it?" he inquired.  
  
"No," she laughed. It was good to talk to Mic again.  
  
" So, did you finally have pity on Rabb, luv?"  
  
"Nooo, It's not Harm. It's Clayton Webb," she said quietly.  
  
"From the State Department? Isn't the man a bit of a figjam?"  
  
Mac thought for a minute. What did he mean? Her Australian slang was a little rusty.  
  
Mic supplied the translation. "Isn't he a little full of himself?"  
  
Mac rolled her eyes. "Aren't all men?"  
  
She could hear him chuckle. "Now I think you're making fun of me. How'd you hook up with him?"  
  
"We went on an uncover mission to Paraguay. Events there just happened. And with it we both discovered we had feelings for one another," she summarized.  
  
"And you want some advice about this burgeoning relationship, eh?"  
  
"I figure you know me pretty well. Both the good and the bad, " she said.  
  
"Well, the first thing I want to know is this. How's Rabb taking the news?"  
  
"My relationship is with Clay, not Harm."  
  
"As I recall, Rabb and I exchanged blows over you once. I still have a scar to prove it. I didn't think then and I don't think now that anything happens to Sarah Mackenzie without Rabb having an opinion. You two are more than just tight."  
  
"Things are different now. JAG is different. And Harm and I finally came to terms with it. He could see why it would never work out. In Paraguay, actually. Paraguay solved everything."  
  
"So what you are saying is that he's okay with you and Webb?" asked Mic.  
  
She toyed with the idea of lying to Mic. But then finally she said, "No, he's not okay."  
  
"Ahh," he said.  
  
"I have a right to move on."  
  
"Oh now, you got me feeling sorry for Clayton Webb," he said.  
  
Mac felt the hackles on the back of her neck rise. "Look Mic, Harm wasn't the factor in our relationship that you made him out to be. And he won't be a factor in my relationship with Clay. He is just a friend. You made more of it than needed to be."  
  
"The man loves you, Sarah," said Mic.  
  
"Clay? Of course I know he loves me. I hear him say it every time we are together," she said angrily.  
  
"Not Clay. Harm."  
  
"You always thought that Harm loved me. I happened to know he doesn't." Mic was starting to piss her off. Her intention tonight was to talk about her relationship with Clay. All Mic wanted to do was to talk about Harm.   
  
"Right," said Mic.  
  
"Harm has nothing to do with this," she said.  
  
Mic was slow to answer. "From where I sit, he has everything to do with this. He resigned his commission, and flew to Paraguay. Bud told me he saved both your lives."  
  
"You know what happened in Paraguay? Bud told you?" She shook her head. Were there no secrets anymore?  
  
"Yeah, you know Bud. He's a bloody good mate to both of us. I'll tell you what else he said. He said that the admiral refused to take Harm back at JAG. He's dropped out of sight and is working for the CIA."  
  
"Well, almost. Chegwidden relented. He's back at JAG."  
  
"So how does that leave you?" Mic asked.  
  
"I'm glad he's back. JAG wasn't the same without him, I guess," she said. She sighed and wondered when they would get off the topic of Harm.  
  
"You are relieved, I'll wager."  
  
"Yeah, maybe I guess."  
  
Mic persisted. "Now there's no need to feel guilty that you tanked his career. Everything's back to normal. You can keep an eye on him again."  
  
"I don't want to keep an eye on Harm."  
  
"Sure you do. Both of you. You keep an eye on one another," said Mic.  
  
Mac was silent. Why was she fighting this? Mic knew the whole scenario better than most. He had lived with this for over a year. It would be hard to convince him he was wrong.   
  
"Have you figured out why you are so mad at Harm about Paraguay?" asked Mic.  
  
Mac was startled. Where did that question come from? She looked at the receiver in her hand. Finally she put it back to her ear and said. "Why would you think I'm mad at Harm about Paraguay? He saved my life. I'm grateful not mad."  
  
"Yeah, funny isn't it? But you are mad at him," he said.  
  
"I'm not mad at Harm," she said.  
  
"Whatever you say, luv,"  
  
"Why would you think that? Was it something Bud said? He's wrong then. Harm and I haven't argued once since his return," she said.  
  
"Okay, that's it, I guess. Why would you be mad at him?" he agreed mildly.  
  
"I'm not!" Her voice was getting petulant.  
  
"So why did Rabb blow off his best mates and JAG for six months?" he asked.  
  
Mac felt tears spring to her eyes. "You are not even Harm's friend. It seems a little disingenuous that you would care one way or another!"  
  
"I feel sorry for the bloke, Sarah. Cause he loves you. And I'll be damned if I can figure out why you won't love him back. 'Cause I know you do. Love him, I mean."  
  
The tears were now starting to come in force. She could feel them roll down her cheeks. "There is nothing between Harm and I. I've told you that before. Clay loves me. I have an obligation to love Clay back." Her voice was starting to get louder.  
  
Mic was silent on the other end. She took a deep breath and tried to regulate her racing mind. Finally, she heard Mic say, "I'm sorry, Sarah. This isn't my place. I shouldn't comment on this."  
  
Her anger started to dissipate. "No, no it's my fault. I asked for your advice, Mic. But you should remember something. This isn't our own ill-fated engagement we are talking about. This is two years later. If Harm and I had anything together then, we have both moved past it now."  
  
"If you say so, Sarah."  
  
"Yes, I say so! This time it will work with Clay!"  
  
"Obligation. You said you had an obligation with Clay. Since when has love and obligation been interchangeable words?"  
  
"Semantics, Mic! You know what I mean," she said.  
  
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, luv. Tell me more about Clay. From what I can remember, he was bit of a dandy and a knocker. But you like him, huh?"  
  
"He's good looking, sophisticated, smart and he is good to me. I owe him a lot."  
  
"Quitting a job and moving to the other side of the world isn't enough to base a relationship on," said Mic.  
  
They were back discussing their own failed engagement "Did I ever thank you for that?" She wondered how many more of her mistakes Mic could dredge up.  
  
"You did. No worries. I don't hold grudges. But case in point, make sure you love Clay for the right reasons, Sarah."  
  
Before she could answer, she heard the sound of an alarm in the background.  
  
"What's that?" she said.  
  
"My wake-up call. Sarah, I'm going to have to cut this short. I due in early at work this morning. Can we pick this up again soon?" Mic said.  
  
"Sure. Give my best to Kate. And send me photos of the wedding," she replied. She was disappointed the conversation was about to end. She had never gotten a real chance to talk about Clay.  
  
"I will. And thanks for that," Mic paused and Mac could tell he still had one more thing to say. "Sarah?"  
  
"Yeah?" she said.  
  
"I have no regrets. About any of it. It was a wonderful couple of years," And with that he hung up. Mac stared at the silent phone in her hand and sighed. 


	3. Part 3

Title: Paraguay didn't solve anything - Part 3  
  
(Sorry for the short post)  
  
***************************************  
  
Sarah Mackenzie's Apartment  
  
0800 Zulu  
  
Sarah Mackenzie was lying in the middle of her queen-sized bed staring at the ceiling. She wasn't even going to pretend to sleep anymore. What good would that do? She picked futilely at her sweat soaked pajamas and wished the super would fix the overactive heating system.  
  
The conversation with Mic Brumby had thrown her for a loop. His attitude change towards Harm of all people, had been, to say the least, a little unexpected. Throughout their relationship, Mic had been mildly suspicious of Harm. She had attributed that to Harm's openly hostile treatment of Mic. Harm, a classic alpha dog, did not like the arrival in the office of Mic Brumby, another classic alpha dog. There was an open rivalry between them.  
  
When she had dated Mic, Harm became worse. Harm had taken it as his due that all the females in the office should fall at his feet. The fact that she, Mac, had decided, to break protocol and run with another male dog had been a slap in the proverbial face. Harm was just like that. It didn't mean anything. That's why she largely ignored it.  
  
But somehow, now Mic was claiming it was something different. He even said it. Harm loved her. Hah! If this was love, it sure manifested itself in funny ways.  
  
Okay, okay. She was willing to concede there was something between herself and Harm. Why else had she refused to date anyone else for the last couple of years? Self-imposed celibacy wasn't all it was cracked up to be. To be sure, Harm hadn't dated anyone either but despite many dinners together, they just couldn't move their relationship forward. If it wasn't the isolation caused when they were opposing counsel, then it was one of them on the bench as judge. She had to admit, a relationship with another lawyer at JAG was fraught with obstacles.   
  
Maybe a relationship with a spook would be different. Obviously, there wasn't as much chance for career conflict, although Admiral Laporte might disagree.   
  
One thing was true. She was feeling the same sense of panic about her life that she did when Mic called the wedding off. If she didn't marry Mic, would she ever find some one to settle down and have a family with? Maybe Clay wasn't perfect, but he did want her and it wasn't hard to imagine a life with him.  
  
Let's face it. She may never be able to resolve the issues that were between herself and Harm. And even Mic was moving on and getting married. She had better do the same.  
  
Harm. Why did he do that stupid thing and resign his commission to come to Paraguay? Okay, Mic was right about one thing. She was mad at Harm about Paraguay. And it made no sense at all. He saved her life. And Clay's.   
  
In complete Harm fashion, he had risked everything for her. And instead of gratitude, the one true emotion she felt was anger. Anger at Harm. It made no sense.   
  
It had made plenty of sense in Paraguay. She chalked up all of their sniping to the irrational, illogical competition that she had with Harm over the years. They both wanted to be on top. But in retrospect, she knew that she was mistaken. Her anger at Harm in Paraguay was much deeper than that and from some other source she couldn't name.  
  
When Harm had walked out of the Admiral's office last June, without so much as a fight for his job, his career and his life, she knew that it was tragically wrong to think that Paraguay had something to do with a misguided contest between them.   
  
Funny, this sense of complete failure with Harm only served to increase her sense of panic about her personal life. If she didn't take what Clay was offering, then she would have no one  
  
Settling? Is that what she was doing with Clay? She turned over onto her stomach on the bed, spread-eagled. She buried her face into the feather pillow. No! It wasn't settling. Clay had demonstrated so much in Paraguay. It had meant a lot to her. Surely, those same emotions would help them both get over whatever differences they had in personalities?  
  
She flopped back over on her back and stared at the ceiling. "Harm," she said in the dark. "Help me." 


	4. Part 4

Title: Paraguay didn't solve anything - Part 4  
  
***************************************  
  
JAG Headquarters  
  
Fall Church, Virginia  
  
1245 Zulu  
  
Mac was standing behind the half open door of her office looking into a small mirror hung on the backside. 'I look pretty good for someone who got next to no sleep last night,' she thought as she picked her hair with her fingers. She peered at her reflection and pondered the image. 'Tonight,' she promised, "I will get a good nights sleep. All I have to do is accept the inevitable and move on. Don't dwell on mistakes, right?' She wondered if Clay would call today. He promised to be in town for the weekend.  
  
"Good morning, Ma'am," said Harriet entering the office. "Morning activity reports. Staff call at 0900. Anything you need this morning?"  
  
"Hi Harriet. The files on my desk are for Sturgis. The list is some case law that needs to be researched. Harriet," said Mac, still looking in the mirror. "Do you like my hair?"  
  
"Your hair?" repeated Harriet. "What about it?"  
  
"Well, Clay has hinted once or twice that he's not fond of the style. He goes for the longer more classic look. What do you think?"  
  
"Me? I love your cut. It's funky and fun. Half the women in the military look like country librarians and the other half look like men. You always manage to skirt regs and come up with a style that's current and feminine."  
  
"Hmph, So you like it. And the color?" persisted Mac.  
  
"You don't like the color?"  
  
"Clay likes blondes," said Mac.  
  
"Actually, I think you're as light as you can go without looking ... well fake," said Harriet. "I love the color."  
  
Mac continued to run her fingers through her hair. "Well, maybe it is time to go for a more classic style. I am a little old for funky and fun."  
  
Harriet was silent. Finally, Mac heard her say, "Okay. Time to get back to work. Let me know what else you need, Colonel."  
  
It was a couple of hours later when Harriet stuck her head through the door and into Mac's office.   
  
"Ma'am?" said Harriet. "Commander Coleman is in the conference room working on Petty Officer Laporte's sentencing hearing. She needs to ask you some questions."  
  
Mac sighed. Alison Laporte was one name she had hoped she wouldn't hear again. Her inadvertent mistake that had revealed the classified information about the Petty Officer's Bedouin tribe was something else she needed to put behind her. It was going to be hard to look at Alison without feeling guilty.   
  
As a defense attorney she had screwed up. But as fellow serviceman, she wondered how many soldiers had died at the hands of Alison's information. It was a truly poignant story in a war filled with irony. Chegwidden was right when he said that mistakes sometimes reveal the true nature of our feelings. Mac, newly returned from the tumultuous events in Paraguay, may have been guilty of just that.  
  
Still smarting from the criticism of his peer Admiral Laporte, Chegwidden replaced Mac and appointed Lieutenant Command Faith Coleman as defense counsel for Alison's court martial. The evidence was overwhelming and the Petty Officer had been quickly convicted of the crime of treason. It was now the sentencing phase. Bud had wisely dropped the death penalty as the ultimate punishment. They were now arguing life in prison for Alison Laporte.  
  
Mac walked down the hallway towards the conference room. She glanced into Harm's office. He was at his desk head bowed studying a file. In very un-Harm like fashion, the little office was crowded with half-opened boxes and files. She knew from the daily reports that Harm was making good headway on the Imes case files. Since returning to JAG, he had been a model officer. Gone was any trace of the defeated man she had seen playing the guitar last month.   
  
As she entered the conference room, she could see Faith poring over a file.   
  
"Colonel," said Faith, getting up from her chair.  
  
"At ease, Commander," said Mac. "You wanted to see me?"  
  
Faith studied her face. "I'm calling you as a witness."  
  
Mac was startled. "My relationship with Alison is still protected under client confidentiality."  
  
"I know," she said. "I'm not asking you to betray anything said. I am looking for you to comment generally on Alison's attitude toward her husband and the Bedouin tribe."  
  
"She identifies completely with them. They are her family now. This is what I'll say under oath," said Mac, turning over the issues in her mind.  
  
"If that's how you see it, then that's what I want you to say. Oh and I will also ask you questions about her attitude toward the Navy and her father," said Faith, turning over some papers in front of her. Mac noticed that there were four HB pencils lined up in a row in front of the file folder.  
  
"Her attitude was hostile," said Mac. "How is any of this going to help her? Doesn't this just go to prove she had motive for treason?"  
  
"Maybe. But I'm going to argue that she is suffering from Stockholm syndrome," Faith studied Mac for a reaction. She handed her a biography of an expert in the disorder. "My expert witness. He has studied her case and says it is consistent."  
  
"I can see part of this. It explains why she considers herself a Bedouin now. A good defense for the desertion charge. But how does this mitigate the treason charge? Why did she betray the US Army and her father?"  
  
"It is all consistent with the symptoms. People suffering from Stockholm syndrome actually see would-be rescuers as the enemy. They will work to thwart any attempt to save them from their abuser. It explains her anger to her father and the Navy. Bizarre, isn't it? Some experts theorize that many people in the State of Israel suffer from Stockholm syndrome. Why else would they stay in such an openly hostile environment?" she said.  
  
Mac was silent for a moment. "So, even though she admittedly engaged in treasonous activities against her country, you are hoping she might get a break on the sentence. Is that it?"  
  
"Basically," said Faith. "Battered women also react this way. They often support the abuser."  
  
"My mother was a battered wife. I know what it is like," said Mac. "Is that all?"  
  
"Yes," said Faith, still studying Mac. "Nothing more."  
  
*******  
  
"Going for the decaf, I see?" Harm smiled at her. She glanced up quickly then continued to pour coffee into her mug.  
  
"I'm getting a good night sleep, one way or the other, "she said. "If I keep my nose to the grindstone, I should be out of here by 1900 tonight."  
  
"Lucky you. That same grindstone has me here until at least 2100." Harm reached for the coffee. "It's the high test stuff for me."  
  
"Look, I've been at this grindstone for a while now. You had a six-month vacation, as I recall." She teased and waited for witty reply. This was banter, right?  
  
  
  
"Right," he agreed mildly. Mac looked at him through the steam off the coffee as she took a sip. Typical reaction from him lately. He neatly avoided her leading statement and instead chose instead to just concur.  
  
Harm went on. "Look, Bud is going for a Chinese food run. You want anything before he leaves?"  
  
Chinese takeout with Harm and Bud. Just like the old days. She revised her estimated departure time. 1930 would be okay too. The office was almost deserted now. The three of them could loosen their metaphorical ties and chat for a while. It had been a long time.  
  
"Me? Want food? What do you think?" she smiled at Harm.  
  
They were sitting in Harm's crowded office with half filled cardboard containers littered around. Harm had moved file boxes out to the hallway so the three could fit in. Bud was recounting the details of Harriet's reaction when she learned that Bud had named their son after the original Star Trek captain. If Mikey hadn't spilled the beans, he believed she would have never connected the dots. After all, it had 35 years since the series ran. Both Mac and Harm were in stitches over the antics of the Roberts family.  
  
In some ways, it was like old times. Bud was basically back to normal, sans one foot. The injury that had caused so much upheaval in his life was no longer defining that life. He had found a measure of peace with it and was moving on.  
  
Harm too, seemed okay. Maybe some day in the future, Paraguay would no longer define her relationship with Harm. Maybe he could move on too.  
  
But not yet. Bud had given Harm several openings to talk about what had happened during his absence from JAG but he had not been forth coming. In some fashion, he was still hiding everything away into some sort of personal cubbyhole. Maybe the best they could hope for is just to ignore the whole thing.  
  
"What's wrong with Sturgis?" asked Harm, interrupting Mac's thoughts.  
  
Mac and Bud looked at him. "What do you mean?" she said.  
  
"I've been buried since I came back and he's been away but even with that I have noticed a difference. He seems to have isolated himself. From everyone. Why?" said Harm.  
  
Bud replied sheepishly. "It's all my fault. It's about my defense, or lack there of, at his competency hearing."  
  
Bud had it all wrong. Mac knew it was more than that. "Wrong, counselor. Sturgis is mad at the whole office. Seems we all have disappointed him."  
  
Harm nodded. "I noticed that. Lost his faith in mankind, has he? Sturgis always was a little too introspective for his own good." Mac watched him as he stared at the slowly whirling remnants of a bottle of Evian water in his hand.   
  
Mac and Bud exchanged a look.   
  
Harm went on. "Reality is that you can't change much. People are who they are. About the only person you can change is yourself."  
  
Harm looked up and continued. "He'll get over it. Look, I better get back to work or I'll be here all night." The moment was gone.  
  
Bud and Mac stood up, picking up empty cartons. Bud spoke, "Commander, you haven't said yet if you were coming over for Thanksgiving. It would be great to have you come. The admiral and Meredith are coming. Dad, Mikey and Harriet's parents. Coates and some date. Mac and Webb. Sturgis hasn't told me no yet, although I won't be surprised if he doesn't come."  
  
Mac watched Harm look up quickly, startled. Just as quick, he looked away. "Thanks Bud, but I don't think I'll be able to make it. I've, uhhh, got this obligation down in Blacksburg. I better head there."   
  
"Mattie Grace? That's her name, right? She's welcome too," Bud persisted.  
  
Mac watched as Harm strengthened his resolve. "No. Look Bud, I'll stop by sometime on the weekend. Thanks anyway."  
  
Bud fumbled at bit and left the office. Mac lingered for a moment and watched as he opened a file and started making notes on a page. Somehow, she wanted to reach out to him. But it wasn't her place anymore. 


	5. Part 5

Title: Paraguay didn't solve anything - Part 4  
  
***************************************  
  
Fall Church, Virginia  
  
1710 Zulu  
  
She turned the wheel of her red corvette and entered a small parking lot. She glanced down at the yellow 'postit' in her hand. This was the correct address. 'Alexander's' was the ornate sign that hung on a wrought iron post in front of the renovated colonel building. Alexander's was a day spa and salon that Clay's mom had recommended.  
  
Large wreaths with pink bows hung in the windows. Thanksgiving was barely over and the Christmas season had started with a vengeance. Mac walked up to the French doors at the entrance and waited for two women to exit.   
  
Contrary to the military picture she presented in her class A Marine uniform, Mac had a keen interest in current fashion. For her, clothes were fun and a respite from the unrelenting green she wore every day. She covertly gave the two women the classic once-over, checking out their outfits. A tad on the conservative side for Mac's tastes, she could still appreciate the expensive labels.  
  
She smiled and stepped through the door. The elegant reception area reminded Mac of a DC law firm. Soft chamber music wafted through the air. An elegant woman looked up from a antique birds-eye maple desk. The high gloss of its surface was uncluttered except for a crystal bowl full of fruit, a phone and a sleek flat screen monitor.   
  
"Yes?" said the woman as she studied Mac. A slight frown appeared on her face.   
  
Mac recognized the reaction immediately. She felt like smacking her. Just because she wore a uniform didn't instantly mean she was a frump. Ignoring it, she said. "This place was recommended to me by a friend. I'm interested in some of your services."  
  
"Yes?" the woman said with icy politeness.  
  
"I was told to ask for Peter. I interested in chatting with him for a moment. Would that be possible?" she said.  
  
"Of course." She pulled a glossy brochure from a drawer and handed it to Mac. It was a list of services with prices. Expensive prices. "Peter," she said into the phone receiver, " could you come to the front?"   
  
Mac waited until Peter appeared. He was dressed in tight black pants and an equally tight black T shirt that accented his muscular build. He looked at her. "Sarah Mackenzie?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," she said.  
  
"Porter said you would come by. I think I can help you." He turned and Mac followed him down a hall to a small room.  
  
Mac digested his statement. She tried to imagine what Clay's mother had said to the stylist. She almost could hear her pinched voice saying "A lovely woman, Sarah is. A little unconventional. But we can help with that, can't we?"  
  
As she sat down on a small ornate chair, Peter started to fluff his fingers through her hair. He stood back and looked into her face. Moving forward again with a comb in hand, he pulled her hair back, studying.  
  
"Let's start with a more classic color, shall we? A bit lighter with highlights. You have beautiful features. Let's not hide them with all this hair hanging around your face."  
  
Mac listened detached as the man talked on in a condescending tone. An image sprung unbidden to her mind. It was the image of Harm, standing in the doorway of the hotel bathroom in Paraguay. She was in the bath, surrounded by bubbles.   
  
"I forgot how beautiful you were..." Mac remembered his words. What had brought that little slice of Paraguay to mind now?  
  
She looked at Peter as he rambled on about her proposed transformation. 'What am I doing here?' she thought. She looked around. This wasn't her. Since when did she start to change her appearance for a man? Any man?  
  
She stood up. Thanking Peter quickly, she made an exit. She needed to talk to Clay.  
  
Sarah Mackenzie's Apartment.  
  
0237 Zulu  
  
She contemplated the painted toenail in front of her. She was sitting on her couch with her feet up on the coffee table, painting her nails. Moving on wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. Her dinner with Clay had been somewhat unpleasant. She thought about his reaction to her news. He had seemed more insulted than upset, proving to Mac she wasn't the love of his life. No, Clay was a little miffed that he hadn't anticipated her announcement. That he had lost control somehow.  
  
But in true Clay style, he was a gentleman to the end. No insults, just regrets. If only he had been more of a jerk about it. Then it would have been cleaner. Then she wouldn't be sitting here, wondering if she had done the right thing.   
  
Like Mic, Clay had been a safe harbor. But unlike Mic, this time she had the courage to call it off herself. Maybe she had learned a lesson from her relationship with Mic Brumby. He would be proud of her.  
  
As usual, this was all about Harm. Again. It was like a broken record, repeating. Only this time, Harm wasn't chasing her to the Guadalcanal. There were no working dinners, no Jagathon, no heated arguments. Paraguay had seen to that. They had nothing.   
  
She was truly alone. 


	6. Part 6

Title: Paraguay didn't solve anything - Part 6  
  
***************************************  
  
JAG Headquarters  
  
Fall Church, Virginia  
  
1245 Zulu  
  
Mac went to work the next day resolved to get on with her life. She had admittedly made some mistakes. Some she regretted more than others. Hitting bottom was something that she had experienced before. And she knew there was only one way to escape the overwhelming sense of defeat. And that was to put one foot in front of the other. And climb her way back out.  
  
Her broken friendship with Harm was slowly on the mend. The ad hoc working dinner in his office with Bud had cleared the air somewhat. She could trade friendly banter with Harm about cases without feeling like she was walking on glass.   
  
It was so good to talk with Harm in that fashion. She looked forward to their few chance meetings during the day. She found herself going to the break room a little more often than usual. Maybe she would bump into him and have an opportunity to talk briefly. If she was lucky, he would treat her with a Harmon Rabb special, that mind-boggling smile of his that left most women weak kneed. Her included.  
  
She trained herself not to expect anything more. He seemed to have drawn a line. Friendly but not too friendly. He was busy also. The Imes affair was still having repercussions through the office. Everyone was putting in full days.  
  
But it was more than that. Every spare moment he had, he took the long drive down to Blacksburg. She knew some details of the story. Mattie Grace was a 14-year-old girl running a crop dusting operation. Her mother was dead and her dad was MIA. The man was an alcoholic, which made the story even more poignant for Mac. Scuttlebutt in the office had Harm trying to obtain guardianship for the girl.  
  
Secretly, she was worried about that. What was with Harm, picking up strays? There was the Terrance Minnerly affair and now, this girl Mattie Grace. The admiral had shown uncharacteristic understanding when it came to the veteran Minnerly. But that might not be the case with this crop dusting kid. Mac knew that despite the friendly truce between Harm and Chegwidden, it wouldn't take much to push both men over the edge again. Harm's career couldn't afford another hit. She couldn't shake the feeling he was on borrowed time.  
  
She had just returned from the break room with her morning cup of coffee when she spied Harm coming in. He was shaking off the last few drops from his blue overcoat and under his arm was a bulging box of battered files. Mac recognized them immediately as non-JAG. Evidence and case files were instantly catalogued and filed in distinctive folders with a JAG logo on the outside. The ones Harm carried were unmarked.  
  
A brief smile came to his mouth when he saw her. For an instant, she watched as he looked at her with unguarded eyes. Then he nodded and headed down the hall to his small office.  
  
It was a couple of hours later before Mac had a chance to ask Harm about the files. They were both standing in his office discussing an upcoming Article 32 hearing. Before she turned to leave, she nodded to the box in the corner.  
  
"Moonlighting?" she asked.  
  
He turned to look in the direction of her query. He smiled and said, "Sort of. Believe it or not, that box represents Grace Aviation. Financials, tax forms, legal documents. What little there is of it."  
  
"Grace Aviation?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah. Mattie's company. I've been asked by the courts to figure out where everything stands. What assets the company has. What is her legal standing as a minor in regards to that company. I have been requested to make a financial reckoning before they grant guardianship. Seems they want to make sure I'm not just in this to scam her money. What little there is of it." Harm looked away.   
  
"Wow," said Mac. "That's not an easy task. It could take weeks."  
  
"Two," said Harm.  
  
"Two?" she asked puzzled.  
  
"Two weeks. It has to be all finished in two weeks. That's my hearing date. December 24th," he said ruefully.  
  
Mac shook her head at him. "Better you than me, I guess. I just can't figure out why you are doing this. It seems like mountains of work with no upside to you."  
  
Harm chose not to look at her. Instead, he fixed on a point behind her. "How can I walk away now? The more I look at this, the more I see what a mess this is. She needs help. And there is no one around to give it to her."  
  
There was a stubborn look to his face. She was well aware of that look. She had seen if before. On a plane going to Russia, or on a train station in Russia. In the snow at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Many, many times. She knew the admiral had seen that very look when he had resigned his commission to go to Paraguay.  
  
"Okay," she said. "Just don't kill yourself over this. Or your career."   
  
"I haven't done either yet," he said.  
  
She turned to leave. 'You've come close, Harm,' she thought and walked out of his office.  
  
********************  
  
Two Days Later  
  
The Office of the Secretary of the Navy  
  
1905 Zulu  
  
Admiral Chegwidden shifted in the leather chair. Sheffield was perched on the edge of his ornate desk. He was looking intently at AJ.  
  
"I don't understand. What does the Aurora have to do with Commander Rabb?" AJ said looking at photos of the top-secret aircraft. Five minutes ago, AJ wasn't even aware of the aircraft's existence.  
  
"There have been several covert missions with the Aurora over North Korean airspace. While Rabb was with the CIA, he was involved with several of those flights," said Sheffield. "The office of the Secretary of Defense has made a formal request for the Commander. It is imperative to national security that we understand what is going on under the DMZ."  
  
"Doesn't the CIA have their own pilots?" AJ could feel his hackles rise. He hated these continuous demands by that organization on JAG.  
  
"I guess most of them are civilian test pilots. Good in their own way. But the situation in Korea demands the skills of a military pilot. One who can keep his cool under pressure. Rabb has demonstrated he is just such a man."   
  
Sheffield waited for his JAG to reply. When none was forthcoming, he said, "Look, AJ, I expect you to cooperate fully. I know JAG is busy, but this super cedes that. It's about national security."  
  
AJ was about to protest and then thought better of it. Harm was too damn good a pilot for his own sake. Why don't they just leave the man alone? But orders were orders.   
  
AJ stood up and went to attention. "Yes, sir," he said. 


	7. Part 7

Title: Paraguay didn't solve anything - Part 7  
  
***************************************  
  
JAG Headquarters  
  
Fall Church, Virginia  
  
1349 Zulu  
  
Harm shifted restlessly, his mind sifting through recent events at JAG. What did he do now? He had just spent the last 15 minutes standing here in the admiral's office, listening while the admiral distributed new cases to Bud, Mac, Sturgis and just about anyone who walked through that door. But not him.  
  
"Dismissed!" the admiral said. "Harm, could you remain? I need to speak to you."  
  
Harm? Since when did the admiral call him Harm? Occasionally in the past, but lately, never. Mac gave him a sidelong glance as she walked out. She picked up on it too.  
  
"Take a seat." the admiral gestured. "Harm, you're being sent TAD." He passed Harm a small slip of folded paper across the top of the big desk.   
  
Curious, Harm unfolded and read four words. 'Froltech Industries, Diamond Lake.' Whoa. The Aurora? He was used to surprises in the military but this was a complete one eighty. He looked over to the admiral who was studiously reading a file on his desk.  
  
"Sir?" he inquired.  
  
"I've been told you know this is about," he said.  
  
"Yes, sir," Harm said. He had left his 'English to Company' dictionary at home again. Was the CIA asking him to fly? "Sir..."  
  
"Harm, it is what it appears. They want you to do a little flying for them. Just for a couple of days. Piece of cake." Admiral Chegwidden had put down his reading and was studying him. "Do you have a problem with that?"  
  
"No sir," said Harm slowly, thinking. He raised one eyebrow and looked at his commanding officer. "Do you?"  
  
AJ shook his head. "When Rumsfeld's office tells you do something, you do it. My opinion is neither sought nor desired."  
  
"Yes, sir," Harm said. He folded the small white paper and turned it around in his hands.  
  
"Not looking forward to flying a super sonic aircraft, commander?"  
  
"It's not that, sir," said Harm.  
  
"Surprised they asked you back so soon after your debut on nighttime TV?"  
  
"Not really. In the Aurora's case, you are either too high and too fast for the enemy to catch you or you are ejecting out of an untested aircraft at Mach 6. Or you are traveling downward in a spiraling uncontrolled flight from 90,000 feet with plenty of time for them to blow you out of the sky. Either way, there won't be much of you to find." Harm tried to make light of the difficulties.  
  
"Then what is it?" asked the admiral.  
  
Harm remained silent for a minute thinking about Mattie. This won't take long. One day of travel there, one day to brief, one day for the mission and one day back. Five days tops. Still more than a week to work on Mattie's hearing. Like the admiral said, piece of cake.  
  
He refocused and looked at the admiral. "Nothing, sir."  
  
"Dismissed," said the admiral.   
  
Mac caught up to him as he strode down the quiet hallway to his office. "Off somewhere, Harm?"  
  
"Yes," was his clipped reply. "TAD."  
  
"Oh. That it explains it then. It didn't sound like Chegwidden was mad at you, but ya never know. Where are you going?"  
  
"Classified," he said.  
  
"Classified? A JAG investigation?" Mac felt confused. Then it dawned on her.  
  
"Not Navy. The spooks again," he said blandly.  
  
Mac watched his face for a hint of his reaction to this news. Nothing. "You okay with that?"  
  
"The timing sucks but besides that, yes," he said.  
  
She thought for a moment. "Oh, Mattie's hearing."  
  
"Yeah. This should only take a couple of days. I'll be back in plenty of time." Harm started to move down the hallway.  
  
"Okay, then," said Mac, not knowing what to say. Not the spooks again. What did they want Harm for? "I thought they were mad at you?"  
  
"Apparently not enough," he said. "Got to run. See you, Mac."  
  
She stood in the now deserted hallway. "Good luck, Harm," she said to no one in particular.  
  
Dulles Airport  
  
Departure Lounge  
  
Gate 14  
  
Later that day  
  
Harm put his flight bag down with a thunk and sat it the small plastic and chrome seats. His mental white board was flashing. There was something he forgot to do.   
  
He had wrapped up all loose ends at JAG, packed and made a quick trip to Langley to get his travel documents. What else?  
  
Oh yeah. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and quickly dialed a number. Holding it up to his ear, he heard the words "Grace Aviation."  
  
"Doing your homework?" he asked.  
  
"I have to get two planes ready for tomorrow," she said. "So, no..."  
  
"Mattie, do your homework. It's important too," Harm rolled his eyes. "Did you even go to school today?"  
  
"Yes..." she said. "But there's a lot going on here. When are you coming down?"  
  
"That's what I called about. I'm going out of town for a couple of days. I'll be back on Tuesday."  
  
"Tuesday! I thought we were going to work on my hearing this weekend," she said.  
  
"I'll be back Tuesday. We will work on it then. Whatever it takes. Mattie?" he said.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I may be out of touch for a couple of days. Don't worry. It doesn't mean anything. Just keep at the homework and school. Okay?"  
  
"Okay." Harm could hear the disappointment in her voice.  
  
"I've got to go. They are calling my flight," he said.  
  
Sarah Mackenzie's Apartment  
  
Georgetown  
  
0108 Zulu  
  
Mac folded some bright Christmas paper over a box with one hand and tore off some tape with her teeth using the other. Chloe's present needed to be mailed ASAP. She was spending Christmas with her Dad in Europe. Mac sighed. This was one Christmas where she needed Chloe more than Chloe needed her. Mac regretted that they couldn't get together.   
  
She would salvage Christmas the best she could. There was always the JAG gang. Christmas eve at Bud and Harriet's was always good. But somehow, this year was shaping up to be a little different. The office was a little colder and didn't feel as much like family anymore. Sturgis was in his latest funk. The admiral had spent six months this past year either yelling at them or isolated in his office. Things were better but...   
  
Harm. Usually, she would fall back on Harm and spend Christmas with him. But now? She just couldn't see it. Too much water had passed under the bridge. He would probably spend Christmas with Mattie in Blacksburg, anyway.  
  
She wondered what this Mattie Grace was like. A love of aircraft was an obvious bond between Harm and Mattie. But there must be more than that. Her own relationship with Chloe was truly fulfilling. It had started out that she was helping Chloe. Now, she realized, that Chloe offered as much to her as she did in return. She loved her like a daughter.  
  
Mac heard the muffled ring of her cell phone. She walked over to her purse on the table by the entranceway. Flipping it open, she said. "Mackenzie."  
  
"Sarah, it's Clay. I got a message you wanted to talk to me?" It sounded like he was talking from the middle of a party.  
  
"Yes. Do you have a minute?" she said.  
  
"Shoot," she could hear him shut a door behind him and the noise abated.  
  
"Harm has gone TAD back to the CIA. Do you know anything about this?" she asked.  
  
"Not much. Just scuttlebutt," he said.  
  
"So you didn't have anything to do with this latest mission?" she asked point blank.  
  
"First Harm thinks I was responsible for getting fired from the CIA. Now you think I'm responsible for getting him back?" said Clay.  
  
"Did you?" she said.  
  
"This is Blaisdell's operation. Not mine."  
  
Mac tried to remember what Clay had said about Blaisdell, "Is this dangerous?"  
  
"If it was a just a walk in the park, why would Blaisdell go up the chain of command to the SecDef just to get Harm?"  
  
That's what Mac was afraid of. "Do you know what's going on?" she asked.  
  
"Yes, classified is the answer. There is nothing you can do. He's flying. And he'll come back in one piece or he won't. It's as easy as that."  
  
She was silent.  
  
"Sarah, it's what we all do. You included. Remember?" he said. She heard a click as he hung up the phone. 'Chatty, Isn't he?' she thought. She closed her phone slowly.  
  
************** 


	8. Part 8

Title: Paraguay didn't solve anything - Part 8  
  
(I made a slight error in my last posting. The name of the CIA front for their top-secret flight operations at Diamond Lake is Para Vida not Froltech. Oopps!)  
  
***************************************  
  
Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean  
  
2145 Zulu  
  
"Mission aborted, Spectrum," said Blaisdell's voice over his headset. "This is Zebra base."  
  
If Harm was able, he would have smashed his fist with great satisfaction into the high-tech console of this multi-million dollar, air-breathing Hyper-X aircraft.   
  
This was the third day in a row that the Aurora got no further than fifteen minutes in the flight plan. A bird strike on take-off the first day had wrecked havoc to the composite material of aircraft's superstructure. The deformation had created vibration and over-heating problems as it approached the demands of super sonic speeds. Hypersonic was out of the question.  
  
"Take her back to base," said Blaisdell. "We'll try again tomorrow."  
  
"Frustrated?" Harm heard Andy Watson's voice on the intercom.   
  
Harm snorted as he made a smooth turn back toward the runway at Diamond Lake.  
  
"Must have a hot date for Christmas," said Andy. "Me? I've got Mom and Dad trained. They don't expect to see me until I show up at the door Christmas Eve."  
  
Harm was silent. It was Tuesday and Mattie would be looking for him. At the rate this was going, he would be lucky to be home by the end of the week. He needed to be home long before Christmas Eve.  
  
"Tell me again why this mission is so important?" Harm said.   
  
"Further analysis of our last ground penetrating radar images revealed that not all of the tunnels are contaminated with water," said Andy.  
  
"Why were the tunnels filled with water in the first place?" Harm had spent the last three days with total attention on the beleaguered jet. There hadn't been much time for anything else.  
  
"Geologists believe the source of the water to be subterranean. The tunneling equipment inadvertently hit an underground aquifer of sorts. Happens all of the time in Potash mining. This brackish water is under pressure and once released can render a tunnel or mine-site useless."   
  
"But now they think some tunnels are dry?"  
  
"Yup. Somehow, they were not connected to the damaged tunnels. They continue to pose a threat."  
  
"How long you think before they sort out the issues with this bird?" Harm's gloved hand moved over the instrument panel in preparation for landing.  
  
"Hell, how would I know? I'm just a pilot, not the engineer. Did I ever tell about the time we waited six months while Boeing engineers sat on their thumbs debating over a simple upgrade to a tail flap?"  
  
Harm groaned in frustration.   
  
***********   
  
JAG Headquarters  
  
Falls Church  
  
1420 Zulu  
  
"Ma'am?" Petty Officer Jennifer Coates was running to catch up to Mac before she left for court. Mac stopped and turned to face her.  
  
"Do you have any idea when Commander Rabb is returning, ma'am?" she asked.  
  
"No. The admiral was told today that his TAD had been extended. There was no definite return date as far as I know." Mac looked at her. "Why?"  
  
Jennifer held out some pink message slips. "Mattie Grace has called three times today. She seems anxious to talk to the commander."  
  
Mac looked at the scraps of paper. "Why don't I call Mattie after court? Maybe that will help."  
  
"Thank you, ma'am."  
  
***   
  
It was nearly 1700 before Mac had a spare moment to sit down at her desk. As she sat down with a fresh cup of coffee, she remembered her promise to Jennifer. She picked up a crumpled message slip and dialed the number.  
  
"Harm?" she heard a young girl's voice on the line. She must have caller ID.  
  
Mac tucked the receiver under her chin as she arranged files on her desk. "Mattie Grace? This is Colonel Sarah Mackenzie with JAG. I was told you were trying to contact Commander Rabb?"  
  
"Yes," Mac could hear the disappointment in her voice. "Is he there?"  
  
"No, and we don't expect him back for a couple of days yet," said Mac.  
  
There was silence on the other end of the line. Finally Mattie spoke "That's just great! I should have known better than to count on him. Why did I even believe for a minute he might come through."  
  
Mac's brow creased. "This isn't intentional. Harm's been delayed. He would be there if he could."  
  
"You can't say that for sure. Story of my life. Nothing was intentional but it's all screwed up anyway."   
  
"Yes, I can say that for sure. Harm is taking your problems very seriously. It's just that there are some delays that even Harm can't overcome."  
  
"I need him now!" The angry statement was shouted and Mac heard a stifled sob at the end. Mattie was crying.  
  
She said quietly into the phone, "Mattie, why don't you tell me what's wrong?"  
  
Her voice came back defeated. "It's just that I thought maybe someone cared. I thought maybe I had someone to count on."  
  
"Tell me about it," said Mac. "I'm not Harm, but maybe I can help."  
  
"I got a letter from the bank today," she said. The words started to rush out. "If I don't come up with $20,000, they are going to seize the assets of Grace Aviation." She was crying again. "I need to talk to Harm."  
  
"What's the $20,000 for?" said Mac.  
  
"I sort of missed a couple of payments on a loan," she admitted.  
  
"When is the $20,000 due?" asked Mac.  
  
"End of the month," said Mattie  
  
"That's good. We have a little breathing space."  
  
"Breathing space?"  
  
"Some time to work on this. Harm told me that there is a guardianship hearing on the 24th?" Mac inquired. Gaurdianship was key. Harm would then have the authority to deal with banks and such.  
  
"That's only a week a way! Is he going to be back in time?"   
  
"I don't know," said Mac truthfully. She started to toy with an idea. "What would you think if I came down to Blacksburg tomorrow? Maybe I can help."   
  
Mac felt confident the admiral would grant her leave time. The office was starting to slow down for Christmas and she hadn't had time off since last winter. She thought about the box of battered files and receipts in Harm's office. She could start tonight, then meet Mattie tomorrow.  
  
"You would do that for me?" Mac could hear the disbelief in her voice.  
  
"Sure," said Mac. Actually, Mattie, thought Mac, I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for Harm.  
  
*****   
  
Grace Aviation  
  
Blacksburg, Virginia  
  
1530 Zulu  
  
Mac pulled the red corvette onto the tarmac next to the battered hangar. 'Grace Aviation' was spelled out on the side of the structure. She smiled. Parked off in the corner was a yellow Stearman. Harm's.  
  
She climbed out of the car and started to walk toward the office. She had spent until midnight going through Mattie's files and preparing a plan of attack. She felt confident that she could help both Harm and Mattie. The only thing she needed now was a little more time. First things first, though. She needed to meet this Mattie Grace.  
  
As she approached, a young girl with long curly sandy blonde hair came toward her. She held out her hand "Colonel Mackenzie?" she said. "I'm Mattie Grace Johnson."  
  
"Call me Mac. It's good to meet you." Mac kept her voice pleasant.  
  
"Can you wait just a minute? I have to talk with someone," said Mattie.   
  
Mac watched as Mattie walked toward a small biplane. She could see a long black hose snaking from a tanker truck to the plane. A worn sign on the truck said "Ace Aviation Fuels." A burly man stood next to the plane.  
  
Mattie looked angry. "Look, Mr. Gordon, I was talking to Andy at the Learjet center. His price for fuel is almost half of what you are charging me!"  
  
The man turned his back on her and disconnected the hose. "Look girlie, that's the price. Take it or leave it. You want me to fill up the other one?"  
  
Mattie's face was flushed. "Yes! But..." Mac watched the exchange. It was obvious the man was ripping her off.  
  
"Mattie?" Mac said.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You having a little trouble with this gentleman?" Mac was now standing beside Mattie facing the florid-faced, squatty man.  
  
"He's ripping me off! And I can't do anything about it!"  
  
"Mattie, let me tell you something. I'm a lawyer but I'm also a marine. A female marine. You don't mess with a female marine lawyers. What ass we can't kick, we sue. Got it? Let me handle this."  
  
Mattie stood back and watched.  
  
"Sir?" said Mac sweetly. "Sir, I want you to treat this young woman with a little respect. I think you can lower those prices now, don't you?"  
  
The man stood up and looked at Mac directly. "Why should I?"  
  
"Cause I know that Mattie pays you in cash. And I also suspect that you don't claim much of that income on your business tax form, now do you? I have a good lawyer friend who works with the IRS. It would upset her to know how you are treating this young woman. You wouldn't want me to call her, now would you?" Mac stepped forward, arms akimbo, hands on hip and looked tauntingly at the man.  
  
He flinched. Mac waited. Finally he said, "Well, I guess I could give you a 'good customer discount.'"  
  
"Good," said Mac. She turned and started to walk away with Mattie. "Make the discount a fair one."  
  
As soon as they were out of earshot, Mattie turned to Mac, her eyes sparkling. "That was awesome! Can you teach me to do that?"   
  
Mac smiled. She was starting to see why Harm liked Mattie Grace. 


	9. Part 9

Paraguay Didn't Solve Anything - Part 9 of 10  
  
****   
  
Monday, December 22, 2003  
  
JAG Headquarters  
  
Falls Church, Virginia  
  
1235 Zulu  
  
It was a frustrating weekend, thought Mac as she drove into the parking lot at JAG. Most of Mac's waking hours had been spent sleuthing out Mattie's assets. What an interesting set of problems that was. A 14-year-old girl, an 'all-cash' business, and an absentee father all combined to make this a nightmare.   
  
The under-age Matilda Grace Johnson may be the rightful owner of Grace Aviation but her MIA dad was keeper of the legal documents. Somewhere in the state of Virginia there must be a safety deposit box with deeds, licenses, wills and titles. One thing was for sure; they weren't in the small office in the old hangar. Mac and Mattie tore the place apart over the weekend looking for them.   
  
To make matters worse, the bank's loan wasn't the only thing in arrears. Federal taxes from the previous year needed to be paid. And then there were the county taxes.   
  
Mattie's father. It was obvious to Mac that the man had been siphoning off the crème from Grace Aviation. The property and planes left to Mattie by her mother were now all heavily mortgaged.  
  
So where did this leave Mattie? Well, at least Harm could assure the courts he wasn't in this for the money. Unless there was a large cash infusion, the company would be bankrupt in a few months.  
  
Harm. Where was he? The CIA had not been forthcoming about when they would release him from his current duty. Mattie's hearing was in two days and Christmas was the day after. Surely he would be back in Washington soon.  
  
Mac pulled her Corvette into the parking spot next to Sturgis' grey Ford Taurus. She put her cover on her head and climbed out. She hated seeing Sturgis' car. Something about that just wasn't right. Six months had passed since Harm had left JAG and she couldn't get past the fact that Sturgis now parked in the prestigious spot next to the admiral's. Since his return, Harm parked somewhere in the back lot. It was depressing.  
  
Flying with CIA again. For the greater part of a year, Harm had been bounced around like ping pong ball. First he was charged with Singer's murder, then Paraguay, and then he was fired from JAG, and then fired from the CIA. Then JAG wants him back and now so does the CIA. The whole situation was a mess layered with irony.  
  
It made her wonder where Harm's head really was. Where was it he really wanted to be? JAG? The red carpet had not been rolled out for Harmon Rabb when he returned to JAG. Best friend Sturgis had both his parking spot and his office. Sure, at least dead animal smell was gone out of the cramped closet that he now called an office   
  
She walked through the glass doors of the bullpen at JAG. There was a million dollar question here. Why would Harmon Rabb want to come back to this?   
  
All of sudden she stopped and looking unseeing around the bullpen. In her mind she was transported back to that marine base in Yuma. Harm was asking her a question, "Are you glad I'm back?"  
  
On the surface, it seemed like an innocent question. Are you glad I'm back? With an emphasis on the word 'you.' If it hadn't been for an untimely interruption by Mac's cell phone, it might have been the first truly personal conversation with Harm since the taxi stand in Paraguay.  
  
She wanted to scream at him. 'Of course, I'm glad! Why wouldn't I be?' But she knew what he really meant. That somehow now, their enigmatic relationship had gone past frustrating. Now, it was down right painful.  
  
Maybe he thought returning to JAG was a mistake.  
  
"Ma'am?" Bud's voice brought her out of her reverie. She shook off the conversation in Yuma. She smiled at him and commenced moving toward her office.  
  
"Morning Bud. Can I help you?" she asked.  
  
He limped slightly as he followed her into her office. "Actually, I was wondering if I could help you. You're working with Mattie Grace, right? Trying to help Harm prepare for the hearing?" he said.  
  
"Yes?" she said, understanding immediately. She should have known that Bud would want to help.  
  
"I've got some time. I'd like to have an opportunity to help Harm," he said in the inimitable Bud way. Through this whole mess, Bud was the one person who had been truly consistent, she admitted ruefully.  
  
Mac said, "You know what I really need help with? Trying to track down Mattie's Dad. Let me show you what I have so far." Mac pulled out a file from her brief case to show Bud. They both bent over Mac's notes.  
  
***   
  
Location Classified  
  
Sea of Japan  
  
0205 Zulu  
  
"Nice work, boys," Blaisdell's voice was tinny in Harm's ear. "Now we can all enjoy Christmas at home."  
  
Their recon flight over the DMZ had been actually uneventful considering the raft of technical problems all week. True, the North Koreans had tracked them throughout their illegal foray over the no-man zone between North and South Korean, but they had emerged the over the Sea of Japan unscathed. The North Korean missiles were neither fast enough nor high enough to cause much trouble. The Aurora had done its job.  
  
Harm rolled his shoulders to release the tension. He couldn't raise much enthusiasm for Christmas this year. If he left Diamond Lake immediately upon return, he would manage to make DC by Tuesday evening. Mattie's hearing was the next morning.   
  
'I'll just have to ask the judge for more time,' he thought. The situation wasn't ideal. And it was about par for the course when you considered how his life was going lately.  
  
*****   
  
Harm made a grab for his cell phone the minute he was out of the restricted area of Diamond Lake. He punched in a now familiar number.  
  
"Merry Christmas, Grace Aviation." He smiled with relief. It was good to hear her voice. After all, she had managed on her own without him before. Obviously, she had done it again. He should quit feeling so guilty.  
  
"Mattie, it's Harm," he started, apologies ready.  
  
She cut him off. "Harm! We were starting to worry about you! Are you going to be back for the hearing?"  
  
"Yes, but ..." He processed what she had said. " What do you mean - 'We' were worried?"  
  
Mattie laughed, "Mac and I. She told me what was happening, that sometimes this kind of thing happened. But it was getting longer and longer, so I think even she was worried."  
  
Harm paused. "Mac?" he said disbelieving.  
  
"She's been helping me all week. She's great! Remember I told you about the guy from Aviation Fuels? Well, she told him off! My rate has been reduced. It was amazing!"  
  
Harm started to speak. Mattie cut him off again. "I have to go, Harm. There's a pilot waiting outside. Call Mac. I think she is almost finished everything for the hearing. All you have to do is show up. I'll talk to you later."  
  
Harm stared at his cell phone, the connection now dead. He punched in the familiar number of JAG headquarters.  
  
"Commander!" Petty Officer Coates answered the line. "It's good to talk with you sir. Are you going to be back for Christmas?"  
  
"Merry Christmas, Jennifer. Yes. Is the admiral free?" he asked.  
  
"I'll put you through, sir."   
  
Chegwidden's voice was more subdued. "All done with your TAD, Commander?"  
  
"Yes, sir. All done," he said. "I should be back late tonight."  
  
"It will be good to have you back. You can start back after Christmas. We will be securing early for Christmas Eve tomorrow and I believe you have some personal business to attend to?"  
  
"Yes, sir," said Harm.  
  
"Do what you have to do, Commander. There are a few messages on your desk but they can wait till the 26th."   
  
Harm blinked. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate that." He thought of something else. "Can you put me through to Colonel Mackenzie, sir?"  
  
"Not here," said the admiral. "She's down at Norfolk till tomorrow afternoon. Drunk and disorderly for a number of sailors on liberty."  
  
"Oh," said Harm trying to get his brain to engage.  
  
"I think you want to talk to Lieutenant Roberts, Commander. I'll have Coates put you through. By the way, good luck at the hearing," Chegwidden said and hung up without ceremony.  
  
Bud? A slow smile broke across Harm's face. He shouldn't have ruled out his friends so soon. A warm rush went through him. 


	10. Part 10

Paraguay didn't solve anything - Part 10/10  
  
I appreciate all of the fantastic feedback I received on this story! Thanks to everyone.  
  
***************************************  
  
JAG Headquarters  
  
Fall Church, Virginia  
  
2105 Zulu  
  
Mac was in her office staring out the window at the rain falling. Harm could see her from his vantage point as he strode through the deserted bullpen. It was Christmas Eve and there were murky pinpoints of streetlights through the water soaked windows. He stepped through the door of her office and stopped.  
  
"Mac," he said.  
  
She turned away from the window and looked over to where he was standing. Through the shadows cast by the desk lamp, Harm thought he could see moisture on her cheeks. Was she crying?  
  
There was a small smile on her face that didn't quite extend to her luminous brown eyes. "Are you looking for me?" she said.  
  
"I glad I caught you before you went home. I wanted to tell you. Everything went okay with Mattie. It's official. I'm her guardian," Harm said slowly, watching her. "There are still many questions about the state of her affairs but the court is satisfied that I have her best interests at heart."  
  
"I wondered what happened. I'm so glad," said Mac.  
  
There was something about this. There was a strain that threaded through her voice. She looked so defeated.  
  
He weighed his words. "I want to thank you. And Bud. Even the admiral. But I know that it was you that did the most. When I started this I had no idea the amount of work it would be. You watched out for my six. Once again. "  
  
Mac closed her eyes for a brief second and shook her head. "I just put in a couple of nights sorting through some dull tax forms and legal documents."  
  
"I know what a mess her affairs were. It was a lot of work."  
  
"You're welcome," she said and moved to sit down at her desk. "Anything else? I have an after action report to review."  
  
He watched her as she shifted a few files on her desk. She had been crying. He could see traces across her face.   
  
Compelled to speak, he started. "Mac?"  
  
"Yes?" she said. She looked up at him, waiting.   
  
He wanted to understand her mood. A thought hit him. Maybe this was all an act, this renewed sense of friendship between them. All the work she did for him and Mattie. Maybe it was hard for her to have him back at JAG. There was too much tension between them. Too much water under the bridge for either of them to go back.  
  
There was a question he needed answered. Maybe she would answer now.  
  
"Are you glad I'm back?" he asked slowly.   
  
"What do you mean? Why do you ask?"  
  
"I asked you this a while back. And you never answered. Are you glad I came back to JAG?"  
  
"You shouldn't even ask that. Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" Harm got the impression she was brushing the topic away.  
  
"Everything went to hell in Paraguay. Somehow, I was left with the impression..." Harm couldn't go on.  
  
"That somehow I hated you?" she said softly.  
  
"Yeah, I guess. We were both so angry there," he said.  
  
"I think, counselor, it would be more accurate to say that I was angry there. In Paraguay. I was angry at you." She rose from her desk and walked back to the window. She turned her back toward him and leaned her forehead against the glass.  
  
Harm was silent. She was right. He waited for her to continue.  
  
"Why did you thank me just now?" Her voice was muffled.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Now. You just thanked me. Why?"  
  
"You worked hard. And I wouldn't be Mattie's guardian if you hadn't," he said taking a step towards her.  
  
She didn't say anything for a minute. "I didn't do much. I didn't resign my commission for you. I didn't travel 4000 miles. I didn't risk my life for you. All I did was expedite a little paperwork."  
  
"The whole office thought Mattie Grace is just another fool's errand. You included. But you helped anyway. I appreciate that. It's good to have a friend."  
  
She turned around to face him and he could see angry tears in her eyes. "I'm no friend to you, Harm. I was anything but a friend in Paraguay."  
  
He looked grimly at her, waiting for her to continue.  
  
"I didn't even thank you for saving my life. What kind of friend is that?"  
  
"I don't know. I think we were just burned out. It doesn't matter anyway. I didn't do it for a thank you. You're alive. That's good enough," he said.  
  
"You've really screwed your career, you know. Admiral Chegwidden says you could have gone all the way if it wasn't for stunts like Paraguay." She went on mercilessly. He watched as tears rolled down her face.   
  
In two steps he crossed the office and was beside her. He thrust his arms around her and buried her face into his chest.  
  
"You think I really care about that?" he said.  
  
She looked up at him, her face inches from his. "What do you care about?"  
  
"You," he said.  
  
"Why?" she asked.  
  
"I'm not sure why. I just do."  
  
They were both silent, staring into each other's face. Searching.  
  
Shamefaced, she looked down and into the buttons of his shirt. "I'm not in love with Clay. It took awhile, but both of us admitted that what had happened wasn't love. I'm not sure what it was, but it died a natural death. And, Harm..." She looked back up at him.  
  
He got lost in the brown depth of her eyes. "Yeah?"  
  
"I am so sorry about what happened between us in Paraguay. I'm still not sure what it was. Stockholm syndrome? Maybe. Burnout? That too maybe. But whatever, when you left JAG, it took me a while to admit that you were actually gone. And I realized what I had done. What I failed to do. I am truly sorry," she said, her voice cracking.  
  
Harm tightened his arms around her. Without thinking, he bent downward until his lips touched hers. He closed his eyes and let his senses whirl around him as he kissed her. He could taste the salt of her tears on her lips and feel the wetness of her cheeks. Underneath his palms on her back, he felt her body respond to his. His heart started to race.  
  
Finally, they broke apart. He rested his chin on the top of her head as it lay against his chest. "When you went missing in Paraguay," he said. "I nearly went crazy."  
  
She moved her head and tilted it upward again to look at him. "I have to ask this. I have to hear the answer. Why did you come for me in Paraguay?"  
  
He understood why she was asking. He knew what she wanted to hear. "I love you. Now. Then. Always."  
  
"Are you sure?" she said, searching his blue eyes.  
  
"Oh, God yes," he said and he bent down to kiss her again.   
  
She stopped him. "If that is the case, then I have two things I need to tell you first."  
  
Harm wondered what she had to say. He looked solemnly at her. "And they are?"  
  
"First, I still haven't thanked you for Paraguay. Thank you for saving my life," she said, equally solemn.  
  
"And?"  
  
"Me too. I love you too," she said.   
  
Harm felt a surge of emotion go through him. Any shred of his usual composure ended. Without realizing how they got there, he felt her lips on his. After a long, long wait, he was finally where he wanted to be. With her. It was worth it.  
  
****   
  
It should have been written up as one of the worse Christmases ever. There was no Christmas feast. Harm's kitchen was bare and the only place open on Christmas day was the Chinese take-out down the corner.  
  
There were no presents. Harm's TAD to Diamond Lake had ended any opportunity to buy something special for either Mac or Mattie.  
  
There was no snow. That particular Christmas day in Washington was warm and precipitation fell in the form of rain, not snow.  
  
Harm's loft apartment didn't even have a Christmas tree. It had been too late to buy one.  
  
But instead Mac knew she would treasure the memories of this particular Christmas forever. Harm had spent most of the day with his arm around her waist or his fingers intertwined with hers. Needing her.  
  
They spent the day with Mattie. Harm grinned a wide 'flyboy' smile when she calmly informed him she wanted to be a marine. "Do marines fly too?" Mattie asked.  
  
It was funny. She had worked closely with Harm for almost eight years and yet today, she couldn't take her eyes off of him. Watching him. Loving him. He was dressed in dark pants and an equally form fitting dark long sleeved top. When he caught her looking at him, his blue eyes would darken slightly. There was a promise in those blue eyes of something more to come that Mac found mesmerizing.  
  
But she wasn't in a rush to get rid of Mattie to be alone with Harm. He too was enjoying the day. An opportunity to be a family. Makeshift, maybe. But a family never the less. She could wait.  
  
There were still issues unresolved between them. They had eight years of history to overcome. Words said in Paraguay were not so easily swept away with a quick 'I love you.' But she also knew that every day she had like this one, spent just loving him would weigh in their favor. And loving him would give her a chance. A chance, to come together with a man, in a way as old as time, in a fashion and with a passion she had never experienced before.   
  
Merry Christmas, Sarah Mackenzie, she thought to herself. 


End file.
